


Wallflower's

by ifuckboyswhofuckgirls (cadmiumredvulpini)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bruce Banner owns a pharmacy, Darcy Lewis is a hipster flea-market vintage record shop owner, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Nick Fury is the landlord, Older Man/Younger Man, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam is totally a flower shop kind of guy, Store Owners AU, Thor and Loki run a comic book shop, adding tags as I go, but natasha does own a coffee shop, clint owns a gun range, coffee shop AU, i totally misused the tags, librarian Steve Rogers, med student Bucky Barnes, not a coffee shop, pepper is his assistant, steve owns a bookstore, they all happen to be friends, tony owns an electronics store
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadmiumredvulpini/pseuds/ifuckboyswhofuckgirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve owns Wallflower's, a cozy little shop that caters to the Brooklyn bibliophile. Problem is, he's not getting any customers. So he hires pre-med student Bucky Barnes, to help him around the shop, and he's instantly attracted.</p><p> </p><p>And then the gang is just the gang. Domestic, light, fluffy.</p><p> </p><p>Natasha is the sternest damned coffee shop owner you'll ever meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He's Your Assistant

**Author's Note:**

> slow/short updates made up for with smut. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (kudos and comments are highly appreciated and will probably spur the author to write a little faster)
> 
> please follow me on [tumblr](http://oxymoronbarnes.tumblr.com) and together we can rave about stucky and hot boys and girls (jack falahee mostly) so yay. also you can commission me fics for the price of....nothing!! it's' good practice for me so please indulge me!!
> 
> but i also want to get to know u so, do follow me and I'll follow baaack of course.

Steve was seated on the edge of the battered chaise longue, expectantly peering out of his cluttered, dusty shop window, waiting for the undergraduate who'd applied for the role of his assistant. See, Steve owned Wallflower's–a nice little corner bookshop that catered to the Brooklyn bibliophile, his extensive catalogue of books, pre-loved and new, ranging from Homer to Machiavelli, Austen to Dickens, Fitzgerald to King. There were only a few books in the significant literary history of the english language that Steve didn't have, and when he didn't, he had them ordered from his secret supplier.

It was 10:17 in the morning, slender beeches still yawning and stretching their branches, much unlike most of the Brooklyn populace, who, by now were out and about with their Saturday proceedings. Steve didn't exactly give his new assistant a time to show up at work, but he does remember mentioning 'come early.' Steve reclined a bit on the chair, stole a long moment to get past a few pages of his Isabel Allende novel before looking up again at the door, where a James Buchanan Barnes was standing behind the glass, grinning like a mule.

This James fella, Steve thought, was actually good-looking. Steve saw him only once before, actually, coming in with his mother to ask him about an opening as an assistant. James's mom was a really sweet woman, who worked hard at the hospital. Steve admired people who gave their all for other people, and had it not been for his frail form and his constant denial on his applications, he'd've been in the army by now — in the end, he had decided there were several other ways to help people.

During the entire ordeal of James Buchanan Barnes’ mother applying for her son, James Buchanan Barnes (call me Bucky), Steve had been thinking holy shit this Bucky guy is drop-dead gorgeous, but that was just an accessory to the fact that he seemed competent and hardworking, as Steve had gathered from the short conversations he had with his mother.

“Assistant, remember that,” Steve told himself, huffing.

Steve can't say he was excited about having an assistant, no. He would've actually preferred the solitude of his shop, except that for that reason alone Wallflower's attracted little audience–everyone thought it was always closed. Steve thought that maybe with an assistant around, customers can actually be catered to.

He rose from the seat, finally, gave the best of smiles he can, and pulled open the door. Bucky was still practically beaming as he made his way inside, his smile completely uninhibited, and that, in all honesty, bothered Steve a little.

"Hey, Mr. Rogers." Bucky greeted cheerfully, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, looking nervous, His eyes shifted place to place and when he rubbed his hands together exhaled slowly, Steve heard the tiniest hint of a voice at the back of his head, saying: 'cute.'

Things like that were a no-no, Steve thought. Not only was this boy still in university (he's past legal age, Steve!), he worked for him (no hurt in trying though...) Steve pushed away his (likely completely sensible and rational) irrational thoughts and said. "Hi, uh, so..." He mirrored Bucky and had his hands in his trouser pockets as well, the ends of his shoes pointing straight at the other man. "You can start by, uh, cleaning up, I guess. I can help you with the rearrangement, once you're done with the dusting and sweeping."

Bucky's persistent smile did not falter. "Sure, Mr. Rogers," he said, still staring at the older man. "An' thanks a lot for, you know, takin' me instead of that other, uh, film school boy. I'm really grateful for the job, see, my ma's not really the moneymaker, Mr. Rogers, an' we just live off what little she makes an' it's a wonder I'm in college, really."

Steve fidgeted a little, being the object of Bucky's incessant staring. "Well, you sure look stronger than that other kid." He said, instantly regretting it. Compliments like that are dangerous, Steve (even if it's perfectly appropriate and within context?) he told himself.

Bucky's smile only brightened against his blush. "Oh," He said, his hand scratching at the back of his head, swinging a direction, pivoting on one foot as he eyed the floor. "Th-thanks a lot, Mr. Rogers."

Steve only shrugged this time, but Bucky was relentless.

"Really, Mr. Rogers, I'm so grateful you accepted me. It's just... no other jobs really wanted a pre-med student, and seeing as the extra hours at the hospital don't pay off at all, this is the best job I could find, I mean, it was this or the docks. An' my ma really needs all the help she can get an' oh–" He paused and pulled out a brown paper bag from his jacket pocket with his right hand. "My ma said to give this to ya,” He said, holding out the crumpled up bag. "Brownies. She wants to thank you for pickin' the out o' the elbows Brooklyn boy."

Steve took the package and smiled at the other boy, saying. "Thanks a lot, you shouldn't have, really."

"It's nothing, she loves makin' brownies for everyone. She's nothin' if it ain't for her brownies, she always says." Bucky's hands went back in his pockets, and he looks all over the place again, saying. "My ma also said you looked mighty fine. Said the blonde, blue-eyed guys were her type if she weren't married to my pop, heh. We got the same type, really." He laughed, not meeting Steve's eyes. "She, ah, just told me when we applied for the job..."

Steve almost did a double take at what Bucky said. "Pardon me? You've got what?"

"Huh?" Bucky asked, laughing to himself. "Got what, Mr. Rogers?"

"The same–"

"Oh look at the time, I gotta get started on the dusting if we ever wanna get to rearranging today." Bucky cut in, pacing around the shop excitedly. Steve might as well just drop it and handed Bucky the feather duster and pointed to the corner at the broom and dustpan. The shop was cramped between the shelves and Steve found himself breathing in nineteen year old as soon as he led Bucky deeper into the shop.

"You've got a, uh, girl, Mr. Rogers?" Bucky said, eyeing the sets of encyclopedias on his left and right. "Or, you know, a guy."

"N-no... ah, I don't." Steve said, walking faster ahead of Bucky, nervously. "Uh, here's the bathroom, and the cashier's over here, but I'll teach you about that later. Uh, there's a back room over there where you can rest and then there's a set of stair leading up to my place. Uh, if there are special orders of books you can find them upstairs as well."

"Okay," Bucky said, taking in all the brand new info. "I shoulda, uh, get started, then. Where should I start?"

"I think it's better if you start over here in the back, but it's up to you, really." Steve said, turning to Bucky, who he caught downright staring at him before he turned his attention to the floor.

“I gotta—“

“So, I shoulda—“

Bucky held his silence, allowing the older man to continue. “I gotta go run a few errands… yeah, I’ll get back to you in a few.”

“O-of course, thanks, again, Mr. Rogers, for everything. Really.” Bucky sighed as Steve let his frail form out of the small, dusty shop, which Bucky now had all day to dust.

—

“So, my new assistant is hot.” Steve chimed as he entered the cool, dimly illuminated coffee shop. The store was almost completely void of customers, except for the few regulars that came to the shop almost daily. A redhead made her way out of the counter and slammed a metal thermos on the table in front of a woman who looked like she was in her middle-age crises. The woman looked up at her, looking like she had just been woken violently (which she had,) and smiled at the redhead.

“Thanks, sugar.” She said. Steve almost warmed at the sight of Natasha Romanoff actually smiling back, but the feeling went away as soon as it came the moment the smile melted off her lips instantaneously when she turned to face him.

“The film school kid? Didn’t think you were in for tall dark and lanky pretentious art type—oh wait, or was that just you looking at a vertically stretched mirror.” Nat chided. Steve merely rolled his eyes before telling her his order.

“Vanilla Fra—“ Natasha cut him off saying, “the sweetest, gayest drink around town, yeah, I know what you’ll have.”

“Okay, whatever.” Steve replied, hands off the table in defeat. “And there was someone else who applied, some James Buchanan Barnes. I didn’t like the film kid”

“Name’s a mouthful. What’s he like? Don’t tell me he’s like the _last_ guy you dated.” Nat said as she went back into the kitchen to prepare two shots of vanilla. “You know you’re doing it too hard when you’ve got bruises on your thighs and you can’t sit down properly.” She continued, adding milk and water to the tall cup.

She swirled a generous layer of whipped cream on top of Steve’s frothy, creamy vanilla drink before criss crossing several lines of caramel syrup onto the top layer. She slipped out of the bar again in one suave motion, and sat across Steve on one of the the comfortable chairs that lay empty in the early hours of Saturday.

“It’s not like that,” Steve responded defensively, fretting at how she had just casually alluded to his rough sex aloud. “He’s nineteen, and I just like him a lot, okay? Nothing to worry about. I don’t even know if he’s gay or just playful. Might even flirt with you if he sees ya,”

“Let him try,” Natasha growled before sending him off to Sam’s flower shop to replenish her vases with fresh daisies and violets. Steve was really not in the mood to pick up flowers for her, but he _did_ just tell Bucky he was going to run some errands, so he might as well have stuck with the alibi he’d given the kid.

“Just, keep an eye on the shop every now and then,” Steve said as he exit the shop, waving his free hand at Natasha’s inquisitive brow.

—

“Steven G. Rogers,” Sam called out from behind a large bushel of uncut flowers, barely even glancing at the smaller man. “I can tell it’s you by the heavy footsteps you make for someone whose shadow doesn’t even reach the counter.”

“Sam,” Steve waved, grinning at him. “You know Natasha’s usual.”

Sam dropped the bushel onto a tray laden with a plain grey mat on it, shuffling over carefully to a freshly cut bunch of daisies in a transparent vase. “Daisies and violets, amirite?”

“Yep,” Steve nodded, watching Sam go about his business of tying up the bundle of flowers. “So, I’m attracted to my new assistant.” Steve admitted out of nowhere, interested in what his friend will have to say.

“Is he like the last one—“ “No.”

“I’m just being concerned,” Sam said, setting down the bundle of daisies and moving to the violets.

“Well you shouldn’t. He’s just nineteen, and it’s just a crush, that’s all.” Steve told Sam against a disbelieving look in his eye.

“Oh, I know how you deal with your crushes.” Sam said, feigning resignation. “More like how you let them deal with you.”

Steve rolled his eyes and takes the bundle from Sam, nodding a thank you. “Natasha says she’ll pay for ‘em later.”

“She always does,” Sam replied as Steve made his way back across the street to Natasha’s coffee shop.

—

“You _do_ know that your shop is a little scary, right?”

Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony’s comment as she prepared his drink, fully prepared to spit in it.

“I mean, I love black and all, but the dark walls coupled with the eerie neon all-night coffee sign and the name _The Russian Bean_ makes this place look a little…” Tony trailed off as Steve entered the shop, who was waving a small hello.

“Sketchy?” Steve continued for him. Tony agreed, helping him with the flowers, setting them down on the empty side of the cashier.

“I was going to say underground transvestite house, but let’s go with your answer.” Steve’s eyes rolled before he even knew it.

"And that's what the flowers are for," Natasha said, picking up the bundle of daisies and handing them to an assistant who was barely even there, much less so working. “You tell Sam I was going to pay him later?” she asked, placing a lid on Tony’s drink. Steve nodded, laughing.

“Yeah, um, do you ever pay him?”

“No, but I like to think I try.” She said, handing over the drink and leaning on the countertop across Steve and Tony.

“There’s a totally cute boy in your shop, Stevie. You fucking him? Or is that a birthday present for me, because you _know_ Pepper doesn’t give into the menage-a-trois thing, even if he’s _that_ cute.” Tony said after taking a sip of his coffee, to which Steve was still bothered by how they just casually talk about sex in a _coffee shop_ on a _Saturday morning_.

“ _No,_ and no.” Steve said, eyeing Tony like he was a petulant sex-crazed child—and in most instances he was. “He’s only nineteen and he’s my assistant.”

Natasha leaned closer to Tony, saying in a low voice, “or so he says.”

“Shut up!” Steve burst, growing pathetically tired of their teasing. He put his hands up defeatedly, explaining slowly. “Alright, I wanna be more than his boss, but right now, he’s just my assistant. And can you please not talk about this when he’s around? I’d like to look like a decent human being unlike _you_ people.”

Nat and Tony nodded silently, and Steve breaks the silence with “so, how’s business?”

Tony went first, his hands moving as he talked. “Well, we have finally reached a milestone with the amount of shares we got. We finally got a millionth of a shares of what my old man’s got.”

“You do still talk to him right?” Steve asked, leaning closer. “To ask for the millionaire allowance,”

“Well, I’ve grown quite fond of his assistant and answering machine, but I guess that’s the most conversation the president of a multinational arms/tech company can have with his loving son,” Tony told the two, eyes twinkling.

“Well, if you really did care, I might actually have felt sorry for you,” Natasha said, feigning sympathy.

“Damn straight,” Tony replied, picking himself up from the table and getting to his feet. “Welp, I better go. My loving girlfriend and I will be having wild and mind-blowing sex now. We do it reverse cowgirl every Saturday. I’ll see you guys later,” He turned to Steve. “And _you_. You go fuck that boy for me.”

He strutted straight out the door as Steve rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time today.

“Toodles!”

—

Steve headed out of the _Russian Bean_ at around eleven-thirty in the morning, making a beeline towards his shop across the street. His fingers fidgeted with loose change and the cellphone that were in his left and right pockets as his mind raced at the possibility of this Bucky fella stealing most of his—

“Mr. Rogers,” Bucky greeted cheerfully, a wide but tired grin on his face as he rose from the chair at the back of the “holy shit this place is clean.” Steve blurted, carding his fingers through his blonde hair in disbelief.

The brunet’s eyes fell to the floor again as Steve went up to every shelf, table and chair in the shop and touched them, marvelling at the cleanliness.

“You really know how to clean up, Mr. Barnes.” Steve acknowledges Bucky at last, grinning the same smile as he walked up to the back of the store, a foot away from him. “Thanks a lot.” Steve said, growing sheepish as the younger man was flustered, a hand at the back of his head.

“It’s nothin’,” Bucky tells Steve, before tearing his eyes from the floor to stare at the blonde’s. “Say, uh, we should get to rearranging, I mean, you said you wanted to do it today and—“

“You’ve done enough for today, Bucky.” Steve took a deep breath and met the other man’s eyes, startled that Bucky was looking at him with an intensity in his grey-blue eyes that made Steve’s skin crawl and grow hot.

“You…” Steve started, his eyes falling to Bucky’s soft pink lips that hung open, like he was about to say something. “You should…”

Steve’s heart raced in his chest, as his assistant’s right hand went to his hot, flushed cheek. Steve gravitated to the touch, inching closer to the nineteen-year old, whose eyes never left his. Bucky’s thumb drew small circles onto his boss’s soft cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing the soft cartilaginous skin of Steve's ear.

Steve couldn’t explain it, but their position felt comfortable, more than comfortable, his face in Bucky’s hand, Bucky staring into his cold blue irises. If one of them moved to close the distance between their lips, neither could have been able to say who, the heated moment and the tension in the air cajoling them to kiss.

Bucky’s lips were tender and large, but they fit perfectly against Steve’s which were thin and soft. Steve felt Bucky tense into the kiss, but then become more brazen as his tongue prodded against his own, as if asking for permission.

Steve moaned into the kiss, unaware he had done so until the sound echoed in the heavy air, waves of pleasure rippling through every inch of his body. “Steve…” Bucky whispered into the kiss, before realisation dawned upon the owner of the name.

“You should go.” Steve made out as he broke the kiss, instantly killing the smile that cracked through the brunet’s lips. Bucky’s eyes were filled with confusion, the surety and confidence that had burgeoned from him when they kissed dying immediately.

“I’m sorry Bucky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i hope you guys like it. more characters every chapter.
> 
> love ya! comments and kudos will be great!!


	2. aftermath (or the one with nick fury and shopkeepers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam berates. Steve sulks. Tony teases. 
> 
> Nick Fury is sick of all their shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE!! OK this one is short bc the original chapter i wrote disappeared and I'm such a klutz. fuck. 
> 
> anyway... I hope u guys like this one and i promise i will make it up.

“You made out with your assistant and sent him away.” Sam berated Steve, a mean look in his eye. Natasha refused to talk and instead busied herself, making two cups of coffee, either of which decidedly not for Steve.

“I… well, yeah. I tried to be professional—“ Steve tried to argue, cut off by an angry Sam Wilson once more.

“In the first place, you shouldn’t have kissed him, whatever you did, or whatever happened, it was probably right you stopped it—but you didn’t have to dismiss him in such a way that could have repercussions. You yourself know what rejection can do.” Sam nodded a thank you to Nat and turned back to Steve. “You should call him.”

“This isn’t bloody date gone wrong dammit, he’s my assistant!” Steve said hotly. He knew there was no way he could win the argument, but he tried to at least turn a few things in his favour.

“Exactly,” Sam explained, this time more calmly. “It’s not a date gone wrong, Steve, it’s _work_. And he could file a complaint on you, plus, you haven’t even given him his by the hour salary, have you?”

He was right. Steve had sent Bucky away without a second thought, not thinking about the salary, or anything else, really. He looked at Sam and Natasha apologetically, and conceded.

“So, what do I do?” 

Nat finally spoke up. “You call him. Call his mother, apologise. If things work out, then fine. Don’t forget to pay him.”

Sam nodded agreement. “Better yet, figure out where he lives. Make a personal visit. I know it seems like it could lead to worse things, but it’s a Saturday. His mom might be there to prevent… more unprofessionalism.”

Steve sighed, looking out the coffee shop boutique window at his own book store. A lean, black Metallica concert-shirt, grunge turnt-up jeans-clad Tony Stark came up to the door, blocking Steve’s view. A well-dressed blonde followed him, a phone on her ear and a nonchalant look on her face. 

“So, I heard you _did_ fuck pretty boy for me.” Tony said, eyeing Steve with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Shut up, Stark.” Steve retorted irritatedly, getting up on his feet. “I better go. See you guys later.” He left the shop without another word, a loud jingle filling the room as the door swung open. 

“What’s with him? Pretty boy too soft for his taste?”

—

Steve slumped down on his bed, in the room right above his shop. He carded a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling before deciding to stand up and put on a record, something blues. BB King filled the room as he sulked back down on the mattress, his eyes fluttering closed.

_"Steve…”_

Bucky’s voice was still fresh in his mind, the memory still vivid—having only happened a mere thirty minutes ago. He didn’t mean to hurt the boy—nineteen year-old _man_ , his subconscious supplied defensively—he only sought professionalism, or whatever was appropriate. 

Yes, he admits to himself, they both might have shown interest in each other, Steve was six whole years older than him, not to mention he was his boss. 

His phone began ringing, an image of a wild-eyed Darcy Lewis on the screen flashing. He picked it up, setting it on loudspeaker.

“Rogers,” She said, Steve rolling his eyes at her constant disrespect of him being five years older. “So, I heard you’ve been kissing and telling. And some kid ran out of your shop heartbroken.”

“Apparently word gets around a little too fast than I am comfortable with,” Steve replied, not really surprised Darcy had gotten the news just as soon as Tony, maybe sooner. “Yeah, um, do you know a Buck—James Buchanan Barnes anywhere?”

Darcy was silent on the other end for a while, Steve waiting expectantly. She was quiet for the longest time Steve had ever known her, so he asked.

“So, you know him?”

A moan came out on the other end of the line. Steve was about to ask her if anything was alright (or a little too alright) before she spoke up again.

“Oh, no, doesn’t ring a bell. I was a little busy. My boyfriend is sort of eating me out right now. I’ll get back to you on that.”

She put down the phone abruptly, Steve exhaling tiredly.

He remembered meeting Darcy back in 2010, the then-fifteen year-old adopted daughter of the eccentric doctor, who owned a curio store beside Steve’s newly acquired space. She was a brilliant girl, who, despite her equally eccentric characteristics, had a passion akin to her step-father’s.

Not exactly brilliant, Steve recalls, how she’d almost set the building on fire because she had oven-baked a display-purpose only metal record, earning the ire of their eye-patched landlord Nick Fury.

—

“So, I’ve been receiving noise complaints from your upstairs neighbours,” An eye-patched man began, all of the ground level store owners present before him in his penthouse office, on the tenth story of the establishment. He was Nick Fury, the landlord of the two buildings that stood across each other.

“Well, that really isn’t our problem.” Darcy started, before the look Steve gave her sent her eyes darting to the wood panelled floor. 

“So, who’s being reported, exactly?” Steve asked, eyes innocently searching his fellow tenants. 

“It’s from both buildings.” Nick said, voice still unreadable, eyes still not giving away _who_ really was reported.

“Can we stop playing this game, because we, if you didn’t know already, have businesses to run, so…” Tony said, rising from his seat, Pepper looking at him in an annoyed fashion, then again, when did anyone not look at Tony Stark in an annoyed fashion.

Her eyes averted her boyfriend and Pepper pointed her attention to the (usually dressed like this) eye patched, all-black dressed man (read: their scary landlord with an equally scary name.) "So, I'm sure we must've received complaints," She looked at Tony. "Judging by how I live with a twenty-seven year old _toddler._."

Tony rolled his eyes. Nick finally obliged and gestured to the whole room.

"You've all received complaints in the past month." He said, eyes passing over every figure in his office. Even at Steve, whose innocent demeanor (submissive little fuck) seemed to save himself from the eyes of the other tenants. And then Nick Fury shocked them all.

"Even you, Mr. Rogers, who, in fact, received the first of many complaints from your upstairs neighbor saying: "loud and disruptive sexual behavior coming from the downstairs floor above the bookstore." And that says something, given the bedroom walls were soundproofed."

Steve's innocent face faltered and he went red, a humiliated, shameful shade of guilt coloring his cheeks. Natasha, Sam and the others laughed uninhibitedly, the rest inefficiently disguising their laughter with coughs and hands cupping their faces. 

Tony looked at Steve and then at Nick, pointedly. "Oh, they weren't doing it in the _bedroom._ "

Steve looked at Tony angrily, but didn't do anything to counter the accusation. Nick looked at Tony and Pepper, nodding to the latter.

"I'm sure you know very well of these complaints Mr. Stark," The landlord said, eyeing Tony (his forehead, in particular, no one can stand looking at Tony's stupid happy grin for more than thirty seconds.) "When Steve stopped receiving complaints a week later, you beat his record in two days." 

"Well, that says a lot, considering I didn't receive a lot of complaints while Steve was getting done," Steve cringed at that. Tony’s smile only widened like a pack mule on leave. “I mean, out-fucking me? He deserves an award.”

The room, again, hushed. Whether it was excellently suppressed laughter or a moment of silence for Tony Stark’s decency, Nick Fury decided to break the silence by pointing at Natasha.

“And you, Miss Romanov,” He crossed his arms. “I _cannot_ understand how a coffee shop can be _loud_ at three in the morning. On a Tuesday.”

Sam laughed, a loud bark emerging from his lips. Steve smiled, easing a little bit at the attention finally _not_ being on him. Nick did not let Sam’s laugh out of his sight.

“Sam Wilson, I’m sure you’re surprised your flower shop has received a complaint. Everyone else seems to be.” Nick stepped towards him. “Would you like to make a confession? The report included ‘several voices of people who sounded like crying.’ I’m sure Mr. Stark will have a lot to say about that.”

Tony chuckled lowly, his girlfriend putting on a devilish smile that seemed to say “I’m sure he will,” and lay a smooth hand on his shoulder—figuratively, a very tight leash on him.

Sam raised his hands in defeat, saying. “Okay. You all know I was a war veteran…”

—

After an almost hour long admission by Sam (Falcon, by his war friends) Wilson that he held regular war veteran meetings (and not sweaty gay man orgies, as suggested by, of course, Tony Stark,) Nick decided to cut their meeting short due to “fuckin stupid tenants.”

He arranged another meeting a day later to resolve problems, and hopefully have hired an assistant to deal with their shit. 

Steve left the room feeling suddenly weighed down again by Bucky. Sam sensed this and approached him.

“Hey, Steve.” He said, waving a hand warily. Steve forced a smile, and Sam took it as an ‘all clear.' "You wanna talk about this Bucky thing? I mean, with me and Nat not breathing down your neck and telling you what to do?”

Steve smiled, this time for real, but still looked anxious. He shook his head. “I’ll come by your shop later… Right now what I really need is a good nap.” Steve carded an uneasy finger through his hair. “I’m… Thanks for the help, man.”

Sam conceded. “Okay, you make sure to come by the shop. Call if you need me.”

—

Steve let the door slam shut behind him, too tired to care. The chiming sound filled the room, Steve’s eyes falling over familiar territory—yet cleaner, thanks to his assistant. 

Assistant whom he sent away payless and depressed.

He made his way past the silently judging bookshelves, feeling their covers and paperbacks and leather bounds staring down his back.

He walked past the cashier, heading for the stairwell that lead to his apartment on the second floor when—

A dark-haired boy with a hand at the back of his head sat at the foot of the steps, an apologetic look on his face. His dark eyes looked determined. 

“I’m sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok weeeee i hope u guys liked it. u know the drill. comment + kudos appreciated.
> 
> PS:  
> I'm making up for the slow update with smut u guys happy????


	3. parallel universe (or the one where stucky goes fucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex. Just, sex. No plot development since this does not really happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN OK this is just smut for fun and so i can make up for the super long update.
> 
> also; chapter three is in the works now, so pleeeeease be patient with meee
> 
> unbeta'd all errors are mine. enjoy

Bucky’s fingers weaved through Steve’s hair, sending tiny jolts of pleasure along Steve’s spine and in his chest. He had his hands on Steve’s slim hips, now, the latter moaning profusely as Bucky ran them along his sides, his back, pulling him closer.

Steve’s hands were at his sides, still unmoved from his initial position since Bucky initiated the kiss moments ago. He debated on placing them on the younger man’s shoulders or mirroring him. Bucky sensed this, took Steve’s hands in his, and reached them behind him over his pert ass.

Bucky retreated a little from the kiss to watch Steve’s flustered reaction, rewarded by the sight of his employer with flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids. He chuckled a little, raising a hand to Steve’s face to brush a stray lock of hair from his face and press a soft kiss against his temple.

He licked at Steve’s skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the side of his face, until he reached the corner of his lips, coaxing his tongue inside the other’s mouth. Steve found this really erotic and hesitated, before he let Bucky in and sucked on his tongue. 

Steve felt the muscle turn and explore his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut at how turned on he was. Bucky’s hands moved to Steve’s shoulders, his chest, pushing him back against the counter, hoisting him up onto the surface of the table, beside the cashier. 

Steve pulled back for breath, watching the younger man gravitate to his neck, sucking on the thin skin there, leaving red marks on the blonde’s pasty skin. Bucky’s hands wandered onto Steve’s thighs, his crotch, pressing his palm against the blond’s arousal.

Steve whimpered as Bucky palmed at his erection as he lift his legs to straddle Bucky’s hips. His hands found their way onto the hard, strong muscles of Bucky’s biceps, feeling them ripple under his touch. He ran his fingers over the cloth of his jacket, onto his shoulders, on his collar, and pulled the thick coat off his back.

“J… Bucky…” Steve moaned before the brunet moved back up from his neck to claim Steve’s heated lips again, this time roughly, hungrily, in contrast to the first time they did, sweet, soft, careful and Bucky only testing the waters.

The younger man’s hands moved to grab Steve's waist and pulled him closer, clutching at the cloth and exposed skin. The latter's breath hitched as he felt Bucky's erection press into his perineum, his legs spreading wider, straining the fabric of his pants.

"Ah...Bucky!" Steve cried as Bucky humped once against Steve and Bucky chuckled, falling into Steve's face. Bucky's hair fell over Steve's, not exactly long, but loose, and it hung around the sides of Bucky's face, creating a small, dark space in which there were only Steve and Bucky. He kissed the along the bridge of Steve’s nose, garnering soft moans from the latter, until—

Steve made a noise of protest when Bucky’s tongue tickled his nostrils, and pushed Bucky up, moving back into their previous position where he straddled Bucky by the waist, tried to put a dark look on his face and pulled the other man close, whispering. 

"Just fuck me already."

Bucky only smiled. 

"Nope, not here. I just cleaned."

Steve laughed saying. "This is _my_ book store if you don't--"

The younger man carried him over his shoulder, earning a stifled, breathless yelp of surprise from Steve, who then proceeded to hit him in the backside, smiling as the flesh bounced at his whim. "Stop it!" Bucky yelled through laughter as he took Steve upstairs.

Obliging, Steve moved his hands from behind Bucky to between his thighs, pawing at the soft flesh. "Mmm..." Steve hummed, his face against Bucky's shirt. 

"Hands off!" Bucky cried as Steve pulled on his erection from behind him. "I'm going to drop you!" He threatened. 

"Okay, okay," Steve conceded, moving his hands to support him and clung onto Bucky's waist tighter.

Bucky twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open into the cozy apartment. It wasn’t unlike the first floor area, books lining the walls and comfy seats in convenient corners. There was a kitchen on the left, adjacent to the bathroom, and on the right was the bedroom.

“You can drop me here.” Steve gestured to the couch. Bucky dropped him on the cushion with a soft plop, the springs squeaking quietly.

“So… um,” Bucky mumbles, sitting next to Steve. “You got condoms? I didn’t expect my new boss would actually let me fuck him.”

Steve blushed. “I’m surprised. Body like that, anyone would get under you.” He ran a hand over his bicep.

It was Bucky’s turn to get flustered. “Aw, shucks.” He laughed, and then turned to Steve. “Better watch your words, there, sir. Making a man horny by raising his self-esteem.”

“Sir? Call me Steve. Especially when you’re fucking me.”

Bucky blushed, nodding. Really it was only his raging boner that prevented him from thinking of a witty response. Damn boner.

Steve crossed the length of the couch and reached for a drawer on the side table. He pulled out a small purple sachet and expertly bit on the corner, tearing it open in one efficient move.

“Nice,” Bucky complimented. He moved to cover Steve and crawled over him, his smaller frame easily sliding underneath Bucky’s athletic own. He pressed their lips together, earning another bone-melting moan from the latter.

“Aw, fuck baby.” Bucky cried as Steve moved up and against his erection. The younger man’s hands moved to cradle Steve’s fragile hips, fingers closing over soft flesh and hard angular pelvis. “I mean… sorry.”

“For what?” Steve asked, a hand moving to his face. “Calling me baby? Aw, no, it’s hot.”

“Oh?"

“You can get rougher.” Steve told him. Bucky’s grip on Steve tightened and made the smaller man whine helplessly into their kiss. Bucky sucked on Steve’s lower lip, interchanging biting and kissing the tender, red flesh.

He moved his lips under Steve’s chin, tilting the smaller man’s head backwards and sucked on the thin flesh, easily leaving dark bruises and red marks on his neck. 

Steve ran a hand over Bucky’s chest. down his torso, his abdomen and rested on the space between his shirt and his trousers, as if asking for permission.

“Go ahead, baby.” Bucky let him. “Do whatever you like.” Steve’s hands slipped smoothly under the waistband of Bucky’s pants, and pawed at his hard cock.

“Oh, god, baby, yes, yes that exactly,” Bucky whimpered at Steve’s ministrations. Through the thin, white fabric of Bucky’s underwear, Steve’s palm pressed against Bucky’s frenulum, and rubbed back and forth from the base of his cock until the head.

“Fuck. Aw, shit, Steve you make me feel so good.” Bucky told him, his eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure. He was straining against his underwear, and he could feel himself dripping precome on Steve’s nimble hands.

“I knew you’d love that,” Steve said, before Bucky pulled his shirt off and lifted himself off of the former. He stripped his trousers in one suave motion, suddenly, only his briefs separating his cock and—

Steve’s mouth. Steve’s mouth was on his cock through his underwear, hungrily slobbering all over his erection. All of a sudden it was hot, wet, heat enveloping Bucky’s cock, his knees almost giving out at the sensation.

“Fuck...” Bucky cried as Steve’s mouth closed over his head. A rough, strangled sound emerged from his lips, as Steve’s tongue swirled around and pressed hard against him.

Bucky felt himself coming loose already, his vision fraying at the corners, but he was determined and pulled Steve back up (not sure if he’s relieved at the loss of contact on his cock) and kissed him fiercely.

Steve’s surprised and had his eyes open into the kiss before Bucky pushed him back on the couch. “Pants off.” He commanded. Steve obliged, taking his pants off with a little less grace than Bucky. The latter tugged down on his white briefs (now unrecognisably wet and stained with his precome) and crawled on top of Steve, slipping the condom (that’s been ignored on the couch hitherto) on, the material stretching firmly on his cock.

He drew a sly hand to Steve’s lips and he obliged, sucking one, two, three digits in his mouth, coating every square inch of skin. Bucky pulled out his fingers and slicked himself up, running a fisted hand up and down his length.

“You ready, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve replied. Bucky’s eyes fell shut once more, resisting, restraining himself when Steve called him _that._

“Don’t…” Bucky managed, his eyes sealed shut in restraint.

“You don’t like it,” Steve said slowly. Bucky shook his head. 

“No, that’s not… It’s.. I like it. Too much.”

“Oh,” Steve replied. Bucky’s hands moved to his kneecaps and he gripped them with bruising force. He pulled his legs apart, moving between his thighs until he’s right at Steve’s entrance.

He moved his hands and grabbed Steve’s dripping cock and jerked it, once, twice, completely enamoured by Steve’s size compared to his small body. He put both hands on Steve’s cock and bent low, his mouth hovering over the tip. 

Steve was heady, the sight of Bucky on his cock, marvelling at his length, and the sensation of the brunet's breath passing coolly over his skin intoxicating.

Bucky’s fixation on Steve’s cock dispelled (well, not really), and Bucky trailed his fingers along Steve’s cock, down his balls, dipping slightly on his perineum and pushing a slick digit inside Steve. 

It’s warm and soft inside him, then Steve whimpered, a high-pitched sound escaping his lips as Bucky’s finger probes him, and then all of a sudden Bucky’s mouth around his cock, wantonly lapping at his dick.

“Fuck… Bucky…” 

Steve could see the outline of his dick on Bucky’s cheeks, the younger man flush on his cock, his senses being filled by Bucky, Bucky, _Bucky._

Steve didn't notice but Bucky’s slipped another finger inside him and he almost jumps up in pleasure as he scissors them, a carnal smile on his lips, exploring how much Steve can take _oh_ —

“Right there,” Steve cried, and he couldn't hear himself clearly anymore because he realized he’s been moaning all over the place, managing “Bucky,” between moans and hitched breaths. And when Steve thought that was the end of it, Bucky drove another slick digit inside him, pulling him apart.

“Bucky!” Steve cried, his eyes torn shut in pleasure. His hair fell over his face as he tried to face Bucky, but the sight of him on his dick only drew him closer to the edge. He tilted his head back, concentrating on _not_ coming right now.

And then Bucky stopped.

Bucky seemed settled once Steve was stretched open, and he pulled Steve’s cock out of his mouth and pressed his own cock’s head against the blonde’s entrance. He shifted up, bringing his chest over Steve's, and prepared himself, dipping low, his mouth falling against Steve’s, breathing him in heavily.

There was an unspoken agreement, and Bucky plunged into Steve in one thrust.

“Aw… fuck…” Bucky made out, pleasure filling all his senses, the sound of Steve underneath him, the smell of their sweat, of Steve, like milk and honey, the taste of Steve’s breath, Steve’s tight hole around him, Steve, Steve, _Steve._

“Baby, baby you feel so good, so tight.” Bucky purred into Steve’s chin. He pulled out almost completely and drove his cock inside Steve again, making him buckle underneath him. He was close, he could feel it. But he had to last for Steve.

Steve’s hands moved to grip Bucky’s biceps to support himself, fingers clasping over hard muscle as the latter rammed into him. “Bu…cky… fu…uck…” 

Steve was positively seeing stars, pain and pleasure mixing into something he can’t name, his vision going blurry as Bucky consistently hit that _one_ spot. Skin slapped forcefully against skin, the sound resounding in the medium-sized apartment. Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave Steve’s and all of a sudden the blonde felt the younger man’s hands move from his knees to his cock, one hand cupping his balls as the other formed a fist over his cock.

“Oh…shit…” Steve managed to say, pleasure rocking his senses. “Bucky, fuck, Bucky, Bucky…”

Bucky tugged on Steve’s cock in sync with his thrusts. His fingers expertly rubbed in all the right places, his thumb on his frenulum just like Steve had did with his tongue, kneading up and down.

Steve tried to keep it down, but his lips couldn’t hold the sound back, instead settling on whimpering noises. Bucky pressed his forehead against Steve and kissed him full on the lips, sweat trickling down and mingling with the blonde’s. Steve’s grip on his muscles tightened even more as he felt himself clench down on Bucky until his vision filled with white, and then—heaven.

Steve’s head was thrown back, his back arching as Bucky hit his prostate once more, hitting its target, sending him moaning wildly, breathily. He felt his abdomen want to curl forward against his back, all of his thoughts losing cohesion as pleasure washed over him in waves. He felt his come hit his chest and Bucky’s above him in thick, white ropes. 

Bucky pulled out of him and Steve heard him say “on your knees” and he obliged, still heady and elated. His knees hit the floor as he gripped laconically on Bucky’s thighs, pressing his face against Bucky’s cock.

Bucky slipped off the condom and pumped himself, but he didn’t need it. “I’m close, I’m close…” He looked down at Steve, doe eyes pleading. “I’m gonna come. Fuck, fuck.”

Steve knew this well. He took Bucky’s hands in his slender, lissom own and slipped the head of his cock inside his mouth, his tongue swirling against Bucky’s —

“Steve…” Bucky hit orgasm, a painful form of _oh, so good_ , his world slowing down as Steve lapped at his cock, insatiable as he swallowed each wave of his come. Steve was looking up at him, puppy-eyed and pleading and he was just asking for it, his mouth stretched taut around his cock, a little come slipping out of his lips as he swallowed every last bit of it, and, god, Bucky could’ve came all over him if he just hadn’t. 

Bucky’s jerking into Steve’s mouth slowed, as he realised his fingers were laced in Steve’s hair, pulling at them unyieldingly. He let go and pulled out, Steve licking his lips in the most licentious manner. 

Steve smiled lazily at him, and then stood up, reaching up to kiss Bucky. He had a hand on the firm skin of Bucky’s pectoral, the latter pulling him into a warm, fuzzy kiss that made Steve’s cheeks flush (as if they weren’t already) and his stomach grumble.

Bucky could taste himself, fresh and sweet on Steve’s lips. 

“I should get a bonus for that."

—

“ _Did anyone hear that?_ ”

Sam, Natasha and Pepper looked up from their smartphone screens and pointed confused looks at Tony.

“I think that was Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys had fun!! comments and kudos appreciated! you can [prompt](http://redherringbrain.tumblr.com) me stories for practice?? ill do my best!!


End file.
